


A Droy A Nu'ne Heneath

by whatthedruidscallme



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Fear, Fluff, Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, Touch-Starved, Touching, Worry, fourth or fifth season, slight angst?? maybe??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthedruidscallme/pseuds/whatthedruidscallme
Summary: The air in the night before a battle crackles with tension like electricity before a lightning strike. A breath can shatter what calm they have left and while the knights sit around a campfire, laughter and stories staving off their fear, Merlin does everything he can to memorize the man sitting next to him on the riverbank.





	A Droy A Nu'ne Heneath

“I don’t like it,” Merlin murmured. The darkness was gentle tonight, and stars bled in through through the clouds. The stream sang at his feet and his eyes were blank as he stared at it, a thin veneer against the fear he felt. A neatly stacked pile of washed bowls sat beside him and a fire crackled and popped in the distance. Laughter drifted over from the gleaming silhouettes sitting around it.

“Don’t like what?” Arthur asked. He picked absentmindedly at the fading wildflowers that grew on the banks of the stream.

Merlin made a vague, frustrated gesture, but his hands shook and he twisted them in his lap. “I don’t like any of it. I don’t like you doing this, the risks you’re taking, and I’m not alone. Even the knights are worried. This might not be a fight you can win.”

Arthur snorted. “The knights? That’s your backup? They’re laughing as we speak, what’s to worry about?”

“They laugh to hide their fear,” he answered sharply. “It would be too easy if they were silent. And I see the looks they give you, they’re worried. The only reason I’m the one talking to you about thi—”

“The only reason you’re doing it and not them is because you know I’m not going to sack you or make you do extra training,” Arthur cut him off.

A slight smile played around Merlin’s lips. Arthur had that steady, confident look about him he always had before a battle, he wore it like a cloak he refused to cast off. His hands were steady and his eyes sparkled in the shadows, urging for trust.

He sighed loudly and leaned forward to catch one of Merlin’s hands in his own, rough calluses catching on his thin, scarred hands. Somehow the skin was still smooth, and he traced the lines of the palm he knew so well as he spoke. “You worry too much. I’m always fine.”

“I don’t worry too much,” Merlin said. His words were quiet, barely bruising the silence, but they held weight enough that Arthur felt it. “Sometimes I don’t think I worry enough. You’re a king now, Arthur, a new king. You don’t need to prove yourself with every fight; your subjects would already die for you. Your knights will walk into hell if you lead them. Your—”

“My servant,” Arthur interrupted again, “would die with my subjects, and walk into hell with my knights.” He squeezed his hand. “They don’t trust me yet, Merlin. I have to find a way to show them that I’ll protect them, just telling them isn’t enough. I have to make it clear that this is somewhere where everyone can be safe and threats like these won’t shake that.”

Merlin pulled his hand angrily away from Arthur, who made a grumble of complaint. “You _have _shown that!”

“I hav—”

_“Forbearnan,” _Merlin breathed, cupping his hand to his mouth. His eyes glowed an unearthly gold, a stark contrast to the cool colours of night that surrounded him, and opened his hand to reveal a delicate flame, flickering hungrily at his hand. “You have shown that,” he repeated. “A year ago, eight months ago, this could have gotten me killed.”

“I know you have magic,” Arthur said, half annoyed, half amused. “Did you think that was going to change my mind?”

“I think you should—” Merlin began, and Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss. Merlin made a noise of protest in the back of his throat that soon faded, his hands curled into the heat of Arthur’s shirt as he leaned in closer. His eyes were hazy and soft with want and his lips were glistening when Arthur pulled away, just far enough to speak.

“For once,” he said, cupping the back of Merlin’s dark head, “just let us have one night. Just—don’t think about tomorrow. One night to forget, okay?”

But consternation still clouded Merlin’s angular features. “I don’t want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to have to worry when I don’t have to.”

Arthur groaned and pulled him closer so that Merlin was lying against his chest, head tipped back on his shoulder. He could hear the light thrumming of Merlin’s heart, frantic and hollow like a hummingbird, and he kissed the top of his head. His hair smelled like clean water and night air, and Merlin hummed contentedly as he reached up to pull Arthur’s arm around him. “You’re wasting away, you know,” Arthur said. “Maybe I should be the one worrying.”

“Maybe I’m wasting away because you’re making me anxious,” Merlin said mildly. “Every time I turn my back you’re running at something massive and deadly, waving that ridiculous sword. The most powerful sorcerer in the world cleans your boots and you think your shiny sword is more protection than I am.”

“Not your job to protect me,” Arthur answered, voice muffled as his lips worked slowly along Merlin’s cheekbone and down to the edge of his mouth. He could feel it when the corners of Merlin’s mouth twitched. “Is so.”

“Is not,” he said, tightening his grip around Merlin, pulling him harder against his chest. “Been over this too many times…”

“I’m still right,” Merlin breathed, turning his head to kiss him flush on the lips. Steady happiness radiated from them like the warmth of a fire, and soon the only sounds that could be heard were the chorus of nightlife, the placid hum of faint conversation, and the hushed sound of their ragged breathing as their lips moved together.

“Show me something.” Arthur broke away from his lips to kiss along Merlin’s jaw.

“Like what,” Merlin said, struggling to catch his breath. His arms were still wrapped around Arthur’s neck; he had twisted around sometime in the last few minutes. Arthur was holding him against him with one hand, the other pressed into the chilly grass to keep them upright.

“Anything,” he said. His hand traced soothing circles on Merlin’s back, bumping against the knobs of his spine. “Something pretty.”

“Something pretty?” Merlin asked, smiling against him. “The stream is pretty. The forest is pretty.”

“The fight tomorrow won’t be,” Arthur reminded him quietly, and felt Merlin still in his arms. “Show me something to take with me.”

There was a long pause before Merlin relaxed again. “Close your eyes.”

Arthur obeyed. He heard Merlin shift around him, heard him mutter something in an unintelligible tongue, and felt the abrupt loss of heat as Merlin moved away. He let him go reluctantly until the only thing he had of him was his hand, and then he felt cool breath on his lips. “Open them.”

Arthur opened his eyes and blinked, sucking in a gasp. His eyes adjusted quickly to the white sunlight that blazed in the sky, which was exactly the same shade of blue as his own eyes. Somehow, the stars were still shining through the afternoon light. He was sitting on grass the same as before, but it was long and vividly green and pale blooms he had no name for waved cheerfully in the breeze around him. An outline of violet mountains lay far away to the horizon and Merlin sat beside him, grinning. One of the flowers was tucked into his wild hair.

“Look down,” he said, and Arthur’s eyes widened as he did.

A kingdom lay nestled in the valley below. The windows of the castle flashed and winked in the sunlight like miniscule golden eyes and small houses were crowded closely together. Roads and paths ran through the city like water and brightly coloured dots walked through through them. Even from the hilltop they were sitting on, he could hear the indistinct hum and bustle of daily life.

“This is Camelot,” Arthur said with some surprise.

Merlin shrugged. “You asked for something beautiful. This is the kingdom you built. That house over there, by the little pond, that’s a sorcerer’s house. A couple druids live in the lower town. That woman wearing red—you see her? She studies healing magic. Gaius helped her with a few things. Physicians everywhere are learning how to use magic for those purposes, and as a result, death due to illness has gone down drastically. Instead of at least half of women dying in childbirth, it’s less than a third, and new remedies are being developed all the time.”

“What’re you trying to do, guilt me into something?”

Merlin nudged him. “I’m just showing you what you’ve done. You’ve given freedom to people who’ve never had it before, including me. Camelot is healthier, it’s thriving, and you notice how no one’s trying to kill you anymore? That’s because instead of magic used in secret, for the purpose of getting rid of enemies like your father, it’s protecting you. The prejudice isn’t gone, but you’ve shown you’re not Uther.”

“So… in other words, you’re saying I don’t need to show them I can protect them,” Arthur said with a sigh. He flopped back onto the grass. “I asked you to show me something pretty, not to use it to further your point in our argument.”

“I can do both,” Merlin said, lying back beside him. He slid his hand into Arthur’s.

“Father was right, sorcerers are manipulative,” he muttered, and felt a squeeze of retaliation.

“Also dangerous,” Merlin said, turning and propping himself up. Arthur’s mouth went soft, wanting a kiss.

“Very dangerous,” he repeated hazily, and Merlin grinned before leaning down and giving him what he wanted. Arthur wasn’t sure how long it was before he opened his eyes again, he was extraordinarily unobservant when his attention was otherwise occupied, but when he did they were back by the dark riverbank.

“Where’d my kingdom go,” he whispered, and felt Merlin smile against his mouth.

“I’ll put it this way,” he said, pressing closer. “You get this or the kingdom. Can’t do both at the same time.”

“Definitely this,” Arthur mumbled. “Definitely…definitely this.”

Merlin kissed him harder, and Arthur would have started something else had a broken wolf whistle not sounded from just behind them. Merlin jumped and twisted around, scrambling upwards, but Arthur pulled him back down so he was sitting against him, flushing violently.

“Don’t mean to disturb the lovebirds,” Gwaine said, grinning, “but everyone’s going to bed. Thought I might let you know before we’re woken in the middle of the night by…noise.” He winked before sauntering off, still whistling, and Merlin huffed a nervous laugh before relaxing against Arthur.

“”Goddamn Gwaine,” Arthur said, playing with the ties on Merlin’s shirt. “I’d forgot the knights were sitting right there.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said faintly. He hadn’t moved from Arthur’s side.

“Something wrong?” Arthur asked, his brow knotting into a frown, and pushed Merlin’s hair back from his forehead. “You feel warm.”

“A spell like that takes energy. I’m just tired.”

“Shouldn’t have done it,” Arthur said reprovingly, standing up and pulling Merlin up with him. “C’mon, we’re going back to the tent.”

Merlin offered no complaint, clinging to Arthur’s hand as the couple walked back to the campsite, avoiding the embers that still glowed on the ground. Arthur pulled Merlin through the tent flap with him and sat heavily down on the bed, pulling the sorcerer on his lap.

“We can just sleep, right?” Merlin said, curling up into his warmth.

“Of course.” Arthur stroked his hair until his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing grew slow, not asleep, but drifting somewhere between dreams and reality. He laid Merlin down on the bed, kicked off his boots and then tugged him back towards himself, tucking Merlin’s head under his chin like a child. He made a soft sound of either pleasure or drowsiness, Arthur couldn’t tell, and his arms folded into himself, curling further into Arthur's body. Ygraine’s token glinted dully on his chest, hanging from a thin cord around his neck. He traced along Merlin's hands, his arms, along his collarbone and down his ribcage to his stomach, marvelling silently at the miracle of breath in his body, the pulse of the blood in his wrist, the small twitches as he fell asleep. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

_“A droy a n’une heneath,”_ Merlin murmured. “Come back to me tomorrow.”

“I always do,” Arthur said. He closed his eyes and wondered if this would be the last time Merlin’s heartbeat would move in tandem to his own, if, after tomorrow, he would have one at all. “And I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Merthur Touchfest-2019. Any feedback would be great to hear!


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